Here goes:“Well nuts.” Grace exclaimed as a sudden forceful knock on the door caused her to lose her grip on the wooden spoon she was using to stir a delectable concoction of apples and maple syrup.“Now there’s a big sticky splat on my nice clean kitchen floor.” She growled.Clutching the spoon and looking like fury itself Grace went to the front door.“Why Sheriff” she exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon after all our excitement. The funeral for Alan will be on Friday you know. I thought I might see you then.”“Grace,” the Sheriff gave her his most beguiling smile “what is that wonderful aroma coming from your kitchen? I could smell it all the way out to the end of your lane.”“Home made bread, fresh churned butter and Granny Parkers maple flavoured applesauce. But, you didn’t come all the way out here to ask me that.”“Well no. There are some extenuating circumstances arising from the Deveroux house fire I need to talk to you about. It appears, Grace, that you were related to the Deverouxs through your mothers line.”Grace, complaisant as always, was getting the Sheriff set up with a goodly slice of buttered bread and a dish of applesauce.“I looked it up on the computer, Grace” he continued, “You and a young lady in nearby Terrytown actually jointly own the old estate being the last living descendents of James R. Deveroux.”Grace chuckled. “My, my, what an inheritance; a burned out old hulk of a house.”“And 500 acres of prime industrial land with access to the main highway. This is land the big developers will go into competition for. We’re talking big money here.”Grace looked at him shrewdly. “There’s something you’re not telling me isn’t there? ““Well yes, the young lady is currently living in an institute for the physically infirm. Her parents abandoned her at birth.”“How physical infirm?” Grace asked tightly.“Oh she’s smart as a whip. Takes college courses for amusement.” The Sheriff replied, “But,her face is deformed on one side and she walks with a crutch. Almost looks……burned.”“How old?” came through Grace’s gritted teeth.“Twenty three now. Lonely little critter.” The Sheriff cast a sideways glance at Grace through lowered lids. “The only companionship she has is a big amethyst coloured spider that lives under the eaves outside her window. You and she would need to talk about what you want to have happen with the property. Oh, and one more thing, just so you are prepared, her voice what with the disfigurement …. It’s a little …. how can I explain it? it’s…sort of … gusty.This will also appear on my blog on Wednesday.

Against stiff competition Peter had graduated (with first class honours) at the top of his class from the Institute for the Terminally Lonely. And you need to hold that in your head. That one simple fact provides all the extenuating circumstances you need to understand his actions. He wants companionship. And in an effort to find it, he searched his computer for groups in the local area. And signed up with gay abandon. Clutching at straws? Perhaps. First there was an organic cooking class to mix up healthy concoctions he would never eat. Then he joined the Nuns of Perpetual Indulgence and joined (half-heartedly) their bedevilment of the local minister. He also joined a historical reclamation project (where his contribution was limited to stripping lead based paint from the eaves of that minister's church. His foray into the illicit paint-ball club had nothing to do with the joy of letting bright paint splat onto previously pristine surfaces.

It was, like everything else, about friendship. He wasn't/isn't complaisant. Just desperate.

Hey River...a thought-provoking group of words this Wednesday...a fitting end to August. Thanks for supplying this month's words.

Here's my little tale...for the tale-end of the month...

"The ever-COMPLAISANT NUNS were always ready and eager to help. There was never any COMPETITION between them. Their COMPANIONSHIP was unbreakable; their willingness to help others never in dispute.

CLUTCHING bags and boxes full of food, clothes and tools off they rushed to INSTITUTE a search for the stranded families, not knowing, or caring what dangers lay ahead.

Whatever the EXTENUATING circumstances were, like a band of trained soldiers, as one they rushed through the doorway of the monastery.

On a rescue mission, nothing would stand in their way; nothing would stop them, not even the continual SPLAT of timber falling from the EAVES above. Some tiles and other roofing materials were scattered across the grounds. The cyclone showed no sign of abating.

The power had been off since the previous night, but they didn’t need a COMPUTER, television or radio to inform them the worst was yet to come.

The wrath of Mother Nature had twisted the area into such a state of BEDEVILMENT that it was almost impossible to recall what a sunny, calm day was like.

As always, Sister Teresa had packed containers of her special healthy CONCOCTION – her cure-all for every situation. No one knew what the ingredients were. Sister Tessa, as she was affectionately called, would never tell, no matter how much the other nuns pressed her into divulging her secret recipe.

Lee; great story, I like the nuns all rushing about as one, like a flock of birds, all willing to help wherever they can. I do wonder what is in Sister Tessa's concoction though :)and I do hope Texas gets a bit of relief from all that weather very soon, they've had a year's supply of everything by now surely? Mumbai is also flooded I saw on the news.

My story is posted on my blog. Great prompts this month River. I look forward to providing the prompts for September. I have been saving the Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day to fill the month. It will be interesting.